


Linked Together

by LadyMab



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMab/pseuds/LadyMab
Summary: Joanne Kingsolver is an extremely talented Oxford artist. Her fate intersects with that of Diana Bishop and Matthew Clairmont, and their lives intertwine in a fatal way.
Relationships: Diana Bishop & Original Female Character, Diana Bishop/Matthew Clairmont, Matthew Clairmont & Original Female Character
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter One

It starts with absence and desire

It starts with blood and fear

It starts with a discovery of witches

We are all a tangle of ideas, wants, emotions, hope. Dangerous combination, I would say, it generates unimaginable power that only the most daring would know how to manage. The daring are usually crazy too, they don't care about the consequences, but, isn't that how we should all act? Sometimes it goes through my head, everyone is crazy in their own way.  
I never considered myself crazy, nor daring, although on rare occasions I realized that that power, most of the time asleep, is capable of causing severe damage, if awake.  
Scattered around the world, there are many crazy, daring people, but those who think they are mere humans are mistaken; No, they are much more complex, brilliant, fascinating and dangerous beings. Vampires, witches, demons... Different species, but the desire and the essence are the same.  
I personally met some beings, I can say that we have built a solid friendship, just at the moment when chaos is established among the institutions that shelter them, as if the danger they face on a daily basis was not enough.

For those connected to Science, more precisely Alchemy, the manuscripts of Elias Ashmole are inexhaustible sources of information, however, one in particular is practically inaccessible, even for the most powerful wizards, the Ashmole 782. It keeps methods of how to obtain immortality, how to create species, as well as annihilate them. Evidently, this is the artifact most sought after by these creatures and that is why it cannot fall into the wrong hands.

One September morning, I remember finishing one of my paintings, in my studio, in the furthest part of Oxford center; that month surprised me with many orders, it is gratifying to see that there are still lovers of art, culture, tradition - and I find myself reflecting on this, why am I so close to the old?  
Anyway, this is not the issue, but I ended up smudging the painting, because an unusual sensation took over me, although it was not necessarily bad, but it hit me in the face, as if something very significant was happening or about to happen , and that would bring extreme consequences positively or negatively, of that I was not sure.  
The feeling was so strong that I had to leave, it was suffocating, and compelled me to follow a certain path, which I did without thinking too much. I never came to that part of the city, unless I needed it, the facade of the Bodleian Library, now I noticed its magnitude; I also noticed - and I think it mattered more than the appearance of the building - that there was someone else standing there ... A man, in his mid-forties, with a countenance as perplexed as mine. Something sprang up in my mind, and at the same moment, the man looked at me, his brows furrowed, as if questioning me about my own thought - "Is he feeling it too?" - That's what crossed my mind, and that guy replied, nodding almost imperceptibly.  
As if this small encounter was not unusual in itself, we both noticed a young academic - it seemed - hurriedly left the place. Her expression broke my heart, and I went to her; I excused myself from her red-haired colleague, who had also approached her, and took her away.  
\- Girl, are you all right? You're pale... - I questioned her, as soon as we were out of sight of the curious.

She swallowed hard when she heard me, but did not answer anything, of course she was not in a position to answer questions from anyone; It was then that I saw a wound in the palm of her hand, and frighteningly, I felt a sharp pain in my head... This could not be happening, it was not real. We exchanged concerned looks, and I took her hand, squeezing it lightly, assuring her that she would be fine. - Do you know the studio on St. Aldate’s Street? You can go there whenever you need, right?  
I noticed that she nodded positively and smiled slightly; I repeated the gesture and left it for her to continue with her routine. Soon after, I went back to the Library, and entered it this time; the room was impregnated with an aroma that I did not recognize, but I connected deeply with it. It was like a trance, and as soon as I woke up from it, I saw that there were two people beside me, smiling softly, enveloped in a magnificent luminosity, looking at me as if they approved something I did and, I felt good about it.

Back at my studio, I heard a knock on the door, light but obstinate; I got up to see who it was, and smiled when I recognized the girl I met earlier - Hey! Come in, feel free.  
She entered the simple room, however, did not sit down - Do you want anything? Water, tea? - The blonde girl then asked for a cup of tea. - We haven't introduced ourselves yet... My name is Diana Bishop, very pleased. I was already gone to the kitchen to prepare tea; and when I heard her, I stopped in front of her, smiling - Pleasure, Diana. My name is Joanne Kingsolver. I'll bring your tea in a little while.  
Returning to the kitchen, I tried to finish preparing the drink, poured it into a cup and handed it to her. I asked her to sit down and be comfortable, and as soon as she did, I asked if everything was okay. - Remember when I left the Library, and you came to talk to me? I need to talk to someone about what happened in there... - I just nodded, leaving her free to continue - I'm doing a research for a conference that will be presented in November, about Alchemy. And I was researching precisely about Ashmole and his manuscripts; it turns out that when I opened volume 782, strange things started to happen and, that's how that burn happened - I put my hand on my head as soon as it had that pain again. I had to close my eyes due to the discouraging feeling of heaviness in my shoulders and head, and I was able to visualize images from a book, with the illustration of a baby, a transparent glass jug wrapped around it, as well as leaves and flowers. Possibly it belonged to such a publication that Miss Bishop had just reported, but how? I immediately described to her what I saw, and she confirmed, clearly incredulous - Did you already know the work?  
\- Would you believe me if I said no? However, I feel that something connects the two of us to this book, Dr. Bishop...

Days later, intending to relax a little, I went to Brown’s Cafe, where I like to meet friends; although at the time, there were none. Scanning the site, I spotted Diana at one of the tables, certainly doing some research, working on her book. I approached, happy to see her, and glanced at the screen on her notebook, Matthew Clairmont - I think I read it aloud, as she soon turned and found my face. - Oops, sorry... You must be busy, I'm going to look for another table.  
The academic assured me that everything was fine, that I could keep him company; Without making a noise, then, I sat down next to him. And, before I could voice my curiosity about who this Matthew would be, someone else entered the establishment; the same man I saw that day. - Anything interesting?  
\- Are you following me? - Demanded Bishop, notoriously offended.  
\- We work in the same place, it is common for our paths to cross again.  
\- But you never seemed to notice her existence until that moment, um, Professor Clairmont.  
I replied in a good-humored way and, of course, a super uncomfortable silence fell over us, I could see a half smile on each face, and my heart leapt when I heard the following words - Miss Kingsolver, I presume. Can you come with me, please?

I swallowed, glancing at his face, then Dr. Bishop's, and his again before taking a deep breath and finally following him. He guided me to the square and indicated a bench for me to sit on, so he started. - She is a very intelligent girl, miss. More than that, you had the same feeling that I and all creatures got, don't waste our time denying... We saw ourselves in front of the Bodleian, I heard your thought.  
Yes, I had that feeling, but what did it matter? What could I do? - Ashmole 782 has been invoked, it will be safer for Dr. Bishop if he is still in her possession.  
I put a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes  
\- Is this a threat? Look, this book, whatever it is, is where it's always been, why don't you leave her alone?  
That little side smile did not leave the man's lips, and I found myself looking at them for longer than I should have; Of course, eventually, I looked away and calmed down. He took advantage of my silence and continued - Your concern for her is very commendable, believe me, I share it. However, there is much more at stake, Miss Kingsolver.  
I blink a few times, directing my gaze to the floor - What do you want me to do?  
\- To protect her, and to prevent her on the manuscript. - He held my chin, making me reconnect the look with his - Can I count on you?

As soon as I nodded positively, we pulled away. I went back to Diana, and asked her for a drink, unbelieving that she was going to accept, but ended up giving in and we went to the nearest pub. There, we laughed a little and she told me about her aunts, her parents, even how they were and... That scene in the Library returned to my mind: So that apparently happy, magnificently lit couple was, in fact, Dr. Bishop's parents. And, I think she noticed my surprised expression, because she questioned me and, not wanting to hide anything, I told her. I recall her eyes watering, and I feared she would leave, thinking that I was crazy and was taking advantage of her; But she didn't leave, she just remained silent for a few minutes. - Doctor... please forgive me.  
\- You don't have to call me that anymore. - Her voice was choked, of course, but she maintained the sympathy of an academic professional. The rest of the evening was fun, we talked about less painful, or homesick, subjects.

The next morning, when I went for a walk, it didn't even occur to me to go through the Bodleian, but fate always has other plans. I came across Professor Clairmont, elegantly dressed and with his characteristic mysterious, austere air; we greeted each other normally - if there was any normality in everything - and he suggested that we go in, as he would like to ask some questions and finish some studies about Lehninger. There was no reason to decline his invitation or to be rude, so I accompanied him to the Library. I noticed some curious looks, certainly directed at the biochemist, so I didn't worry; what made me really uncomfortable was the look in Clairmont himself.

I answered a large part of the question to which I was submitted, and I did not fail to ask mine; However, his words were interrupted by steps and voices belonging to three people.  
\- He already put in his orders. Those too are, give them to him.  
\- Sure - That voice I knew, friendly and sincere, Sean.  
\- Hi, what's going on? - Dr. Bishop... This day just keeps getting better.  
The librarian informed her that a scientist decided to honor Bodleian with his presence, and that unfortunately, he requested the bench that Diana used to sit on. The historian made her discontent clear - so much so that I could even swear I saw a beam of light emanating from her body - even so, she made her way over to us while Sean laid Clairmont's orders on the table.  
As soon as the boy left, the blonde approached, visibly reluctantly and tried to deposit her things above the desk. The colleagues greeted each other coolly and the newcomer directed her gaze to me. - Good morning, Joanne, it's good to see you here.  
\- Oh, good morning, Diana! - I chuckled and emphasized his first name, since we no longer treat each other so formally.  
\- It's also good to see that you had company, I hope I'm not bothering you.  
My response to that unreasonable comment was to pucker my lips, while the man next to me turned a page from his book, so natural and sardonic that it made me giggle, this time. The tension in the Duke Humfrey room was palpable, I could almost hear their thoughts, I could smell the indefinable things emanating from these two and somehow, I could suspect it had a lot more to do with me than I imagined.

I got two pieces of information: Matthew Clairmont was a vampire, and Diana Bishop, a witch, and honestly... I thought that was really cool! In fact, I could barely disguise my animation, but I didn't want the researcher to be uncomfortable because of that, after all... She avoided her magical heritage at all costs.  
The fact is that other witches and other vampires, along with ordinary people, filled the library - it was as if they were watching something, or someone - and, to be honest, it gave me a shiver down my spine, and that headache returned. I suspected that we were not alone in this world; I mean, the universe is too wide for the bland humans we are. However, in that place, many different and not so peaceful beings hovered around, directing their hostile looks at our small group. I tried to make a point with Diana, really, but she didn't want to hear about it, and she made a great effort to concentrate on work; But it was Clairmont who, after a few comments about - just - the witches that crowded the room, simply closed the computer.  
\- Dr. Bishop, wait a minute... - I started to follow, but Matthew took my elbow, moving from his seat so quickly that I became dizzy. Intending to free myself from his grip, I ended up throwing him away and noticed that my hands were glistening; Stunned, my legs got a boost just to see how the vampire was doing. Tears welled up in my eyes. - Matthew, Matthew, forgive me!  
The vampire's features were pure astonishment, pain and something else that I couldn't discern, and I didn't even want to. A voice commanded me to go after Diana, and I did so; However, I didn't expect to run into that redhead again. Something about her made my blood boil. - That was a vampire!

\- Yes. - We said in unison, while I raised an eyebrow, staring at her. I think she was called Gillian, it was not difficult to see that Bishop was uncomfortable with her toxic presence. Her gaze drew sharp, icy knives towards me, until she directed it at the researcher beside me again and asked what Matthew was doing in the library; I let Diana answer and, finally, guided the witch away from that woman. - Is she a witch too?  
I saw his forehead creasing as he looked at me, one question hung over her head, or several. I answered her silent questions patiently. - Yes, I know you're a witch, that Clairmont is a vampire and everything, I just don't know why so many beings are always filling the Bodleian.  
\- That book I told you about, Joanne, remember? There is something about it that attracts them. After I opened it, things happened...  
\- I noticed that too. But don't worry, right? I'll be here with you.

It was already dark and I was on my way to my studio on St. Aldate’s Street, because I wanted to paint a little before going home. Art always helped me to clear my mind and see things in a different perspective; that incident at Bodleian was certainly no accident. I went to look for the key in the bag, and I felt something cold on the back of my neck, and the worst thing... I could smell someone dangerously close to me, someone who could be threatening. - M-Matthew? What...?  
\- I would like to talk to you about what happened earlier. I don't think you'll mind. - Of course I would mind, I don't even know how I did that and I was not willing to resume that episode. I swallowed and my expression showed my answer. A side and sinister smile appeared on the vampire's thin lips, we would start a long discussion that could have bad consequences, if it weren't for a hand coming against my mouth.


	2. Chapter Two

\- What a pleasure to meet you, signorina. I am sorry that it is in such embarrassing circumstances. - That sharp voice poured words inside me with a strong Italian accent and caused a burning sensation, as if made of a mixture of honey and pepper - extremely sweet and pungent at the same time. God, where had the strength that I showed a few hours earlier gone? An animalistic sound emerged from the throat of Clairmont, received by another of this being that took my breath away, I could feel the vibration of his throat and his hand was slowly moving away from me - but for some reason, I knew that the danger had not yet passed. - Clairmont.  
\- Battaglia. How long ago, no? Leave the girl alone and we can catch up.  
\- I see that she is important to you. Did she invoke the lost manuscript? You choose your companies very well, amico.  
Matthew jumped on the stranger, snarling, like an animal chasing his dinner; the other, in turn, showed a stunning, eager smile, with two small daggers on display. My blood ran cold, Matthew had no fangs... Maybe this Battaglia guy is from a different race, or different clan. Anyway, I needed to do something or I was going to witness a murder.

\- Enough - I mentally said to those two, and they reacted, as if they were in a kind of trance. Matthew got up slowly, another sound came from his lips, this time like a wounded animal. The Battaglia guy had an expression of astonishment, which almost made me feel sorry, and he also walked away. Now, apparently recovered from a mental order, Clairmont took the opportunity to grab his colleague by the neck and utter various curses in Occitan - a Romanic language spoken in the south of France, Occitan Valleys, Monaco, and in the Valley of Aaron, regions referred to as Occitania or Country d'Oc. Stunned, the Italian shook his head positively as he could, this caused the Frenchman to let him go.  
After the departure of the hostile foreigner, I still went in vain to look for the key in the bag; my hands were shaking too much, and I didn't even want to glance at Matthew anymore.  
\- Here, let me help you...  
\- Leave it, I'll do it myself. - I retort, biting - Thank you, and have a good night.  
Resigned, and frowning, the vampire took his course - I don't know if he ever looked back and honestly, I didn't care. Finally I was able to open the studio and I entered, desperate to scream and forget everything that was happening.  
Sunbeams cascaded through the studio windows and caressed my face; I opened my eyes and a genuine smile broke out on my dry lips and after stretching and contemplating that morning show again, I gathered the courage to get up and start another day.

A friend of Matthew Clairmont, Miriam - also a vampire - had been tasked with taking care of Diana Bishop and keeping her away from any creature while at Bod, as this was where the historian invoked and disenchanted Ashmole's copy. So many secrets surrounded it, so many dangers and how much envy there can be in a community in which members should help each other.  
That morning, the student arrived at the library lobby at the usual time, went up the stairs and went to the corner near the return table, certain that she would see him. Clairmont was not there.  
\- Do you need something? - Miriam asked irritably, making the chair tip over when she got up.

\- Where's Professor Clairmont?  
\- He's hunting in Scotland - she said grudgingly.  
"Hunting". I swallowed.  
\- Ah. And when will he be back?  
\- Honestly, I don't know, dr. Bishop. -She crossed her arms, tapping her foot.  
Rolling her eyes discreetly, the witch tried to deviate from the path of the vampire with the face of few friends and went to her usual table to start work, however, the difficulty in concentrating was greater than the productivity of her investigations.  
After what seemed like hours, the fingers of the American researcher began to tingle in an alarming way - that was the sensation that dominated her whenever a witch or wizard was around. Hesitantly, when she raised her blue eyes, she could see that he was a wizard, wearing a brown tweed coat and hair taking on a whitish color. Nothing good could come of that man, she was sure. - Dr. Bishop? - He called out to her, and his body was filled with a devastating foreboding.  
\- Can I help you?  
\- My name is Peter Knox. - The two nodded and he continued. - Usually there aren't that many creatures around here... I believe the rumor that you opened Ashmole spread very quickly.  
\- I'm sorry, Mr. Knox, I'm busy. - She made a point of emphasizing her condition of non-academic.

\- It is good to remain silent, but I assure you that I am a friend. Um, can we talk over coffee? - As Diana refused his invitation, he had to think quickly - Or do you prefer tea, like your mother?  
The two, who most resembled a grandfather accompanying their granddaughter or daughter for a walk, made their way to an elegant establishment serving varieties of teas, cakes and sweets - Indian - if she was not mistaken. They talked about the historian's parents, especially about Rebecca Bishop, for whom Knox had a great appreciation. The tragedy involving them had been dealt with by the two, before the wizard started the matter that really interested him - So did you simply request it? - As she nodded, Peter protested - This is strange, because, I ordered the book this morning, and I was informed that it has been missing for years.  
\- How is this possible? - She objected - I removed it.  
\- And I assume you gave it back.  
\- Of course! - She replied, already losing patience. - I wouldn't steal a book from the library.  
\- Of course not.. Maybe it was a typical anniversary reaction, related to the date the spell was cast. Sometimes, the passage of time interferes with witchcraft, and anniversaries are particularly volatile moments. If you haven't tried to evoke it again, I guarantee that trying it will not be as easy as the first time.  
\- And which celebration would be the anniversary?  
\- The Sesquicentennial. I need to ask... What happened when you opened it?  
\- I saw only one page.  
\- And what was in it?  
That was going too far - An illustration... Of the philosopher's child.  
\- There must be something else, you must have seen something else.  
\- Now I have to ask... Why is this so important to you?  
After a pause to catch his breath, he responds.  
\- This manuscript belongs to us - He said vehemently. - We are the only creatures that can understand it and keep the secrets contained therein.  
\- What's in that manuscript?  
\- Spells never imagined. Enchantments that can bring unity to the world. - Knox's face became dreamy. - The secret of immortality. How witches made the first demon. How vampires can be destroyed once and for all. This manuscript is the source of all our power, past and present. And it cannot fall into the hands of other beings.  
\- Funny how you contradict yourself. If you'll excuse me... - Her voice was pure disappointment and annoyance, and she was unceremonious to leave the wizard's presence.

In the afternoon, I finished a painting that I started as soon as I finished breakfast; I tried my best to portray the golden curtain that I witnessed when I woke up and I think I was successful, although the magnitude of that event could not be reproduced by human hands. While I was washing my hands, I heard the characteristic sound of a fist knocking on the door, I didn't even have to open it to know it was Dr. Bishop. - Diana, I can't say it was a surprise, but how nice to see you! - She greeted me with a hug, very welcome, by the way. - Come in, sweetheart. Want some tea?  
\- Do you read minds and never told me ?!  
With a laugh shared by us, I turned my back on her to prepare the steaming drink. When the kettle beeped, I turned off the heat and brewed one of my favorite teas; I placed a small jar of milk and the sugar bowl on the table, poured the drink into two cups, also placing them on the table. I asked Diana to sit and relax. Already installed, she added half a spoonful of sugar and a little milk to the drink. After all the steps were completed, he stirred the tea clockwise, and then took a sip. I smiled watching your ritual, because... I did the same way.  
\- Di, did something happen to you these days? I swear I can feel it when it's not right, even from a distance...  
\- A wizard named Peter Knox came to approach me...  
\- Let me guess: about that Ashmole 782, correct? It's weird, but every time someone mentions it, my head hurts like hell. Sorry, I'm interrupting you ...  
\- The man hates all those who are not wizards, and I'm afraid, Jo. I just want to have a normal life. What should I do?  
\- Honey, as hard as it is to believe, you are not normal. You cannot continue to deny your nature. - She took her hand, caressing it - And as for the book... I can try to remove it.  
Diana's eyes widened and I huddled in my chair, preparing for a sister-to-sister speech.

The next day, Diana woke up early, and prepared to run around the University square, taking advantage of the fact that the students would be back on vacation next week. Two habits that the researcher had and that helped her when she needed to empty her head: Paddle and run. For her, it was like flying, the stress dissipating from her system like darkness dissipating from a room when the switch was pressed. However, that morning, the race was not having the desired effect, her skin tingled and her heart squeezed.  
\- That was fast. - An unfriendly voice sounded, whose owner came in calculated steps and took the hand that contained that burn - What happened to your hand? Oh, I think it was the book, when you opened it.  
\- Who are you? - She quickly pulled her hand out of the other's grip.  
\- You were the magnet of that, magic attracts magic. But yours is hidden... - Something started to happen to that witch, as if she were being possessed by some demon or by a very strong sensation. - Someone did something to you, or you did it to yourself. Someone very important to you is in danger...  
\- What are you? A Knox servant, is that it? Tell him to forget about this manuscript. - The words came out of Bishop's mouth like never before, her limits had been tested for a while.  
\- It's not just about this manuscript - The brunette murmured, giving the other an evil smile - It's about you.

Meanwhile, at Hamish Osborne's property in Lanarkshire, Scotland, we have a vampire preparing to leave and a demon advising him to proceed with caution. - Wait! Think before your next step.  
\- No, other creatures will want the book. I have to get my hands on it before they can.  
\- I know you need the book, but you're a danger to her. Think about what happened to the women you wanted. Elena, Cecilia ...  
\- I wish I never told you.  
\- But you did it because you wanted me to be your conscience.  
\- After Cecilia, I swore I would never get involved with another warm-blood again, you know that.  
\- But, Matt, the way you talk about Diana Bishop, and this Joanne ... It's so atypical of you. I just want to protect you. Do not return to Oxford until you are sure that you will be able to control yourself close to both.

After a drink with Nicholas Marsh, the college principal, Bishop was making her way back to her apartment, when a minimalist voice echoed through her head, making her feel as vulnerable as ever.

You can't escape me so easily

I need this book, we need this book

Dread permeated her being, and she became furious as soon as she located the owner of the voice. Knox. Her concentration and strength had been so great that the window pane from which the hateful being peered broke into a thousand pieces.  
Something called me, an energy that became musical attracted me like a mermaid seduces the sailor; A power that was both dangerous and inviting left me with no choice but to go to the place where I was guided. It was in the courtyard of the University where I found my friend, totally fragile and exasperated; Without thinking about anything, I hurried over to her, wrapping her in my arms, promising to always take care of her. I accompanied her to her quarters and spent the night there.  
As soon as it was morning, she asked me to go with her to Professor Clairmont's quarters, perhaps she had already returned from the hunt; it would be nice to talk to someone else about everything that is going on, and he would certainly welcome us with open arms.  
The vampire had arrived a few minutes later, his gaze rested on each other like magnets, a deep connection was shared and made evident every time they saw each other, it was very exciting. We were invited and entered their rooms; she sat on a chair, while he and I stood. - How was it in Scotland? - Di asked, starting a relatively light topic.  
\- Excellent.  
\- Miriam said you were hunting.  
He blew out a breath and dug his nails into his palms.  
\- She shouldn't have said that.  
\- Why? - As he didn't answer, she asked another question, her forehead sweating - Were you alone?  
He took some time to answer. - No.  
\- We were not alone here either... - Words spoken by me, in an acid tone, while running his hand over his face. I was still a little angry with Clairmont, and I think the historian noticed, because she looked at me with a grave expression.  
\- Did they approach you too? Why didn't you tell me?  
\- I thought it wasn't important. There are other things to worry about.  
After an intimidating silence, Bishop recognized that we were right about the book and the use of magic; As much as she wanted to, and needed to deny everything that had to do with her powers, the truth is that the magic was in her blood, in her heart, and it was time to assume it.  
\- Why did you come to me? - Was he serious?  
\- Matthew, she needs help. She needs people to support her instead of judgments and questions...  
\- Knox wants the book? - Successfully ignored.  
\- According to him, it contains the first spells; methods for obtaining immortality; formulas to create and destroy ...  
\- Does he know you gave it back?  
\- He knows, and wants me to get it again.  
\- And will you? - He asked, incredulous.  
\- I will try. - I protested, obstinately.  
\- You're not thinking, Joanne. How in the name of God would you do that?


	3. Chapter Three

\- I am not an ordinary person, at least not as I thought, and I know that I risk sounding self-centered; However, I have been able to do things in the last few days... - What things? - The academic was curious. Clairmont made a point of reporting that fateful episode in front of my studio. - You are a witch too... - It was more a statement than a question, and I could see a gleam in his eyes that made her more beautiful. While Diana was processing the deduction she herself made, I went to take a look at the hundreds of old, yet untouched books that elegantly adorned shelves kept. Among the works most read by Matthew were those of electricity, microscopy and physiology. However, the most used was on the 19th century shelf: Darwin's first edition of Origin of species. After a look at both of them, I pulled the book off the shelf carefully. The green fabric cover with the author's title and name engraved in gold was faded from use. Matthew had signed his own name on the guard. Inside the book was a folded letter.

 _Dear Sir_ , it said. _Your letter of October 15th has finally reached my hands. I am mortified that it took so long to answer. Over the years I have been collecting facts related to the variation and the origin of species and your approval of my arguments arrives as encouraging news, since my book will soon be in the hands of the editor._

At the end of the letter, signature, _C. Darwin_ , and date, 1859. Matthew had exchanged letters with Darwin a few weeks before the publication of the book in November.
    
    
      The vampire had made notes in pencil and ink that practically filled all the white space available on the pages. Particularly abundant notes in three chapters. Referring to instinct, hybridity and affinities between species.
    Snowflakes fell on my shoulders, which meant that the tenant of the apartment looked directly at me, as if he expected me to comment on something or to be polite enough to replace the specimen in its place; Dr. Bishop, already recomposed, delicately removed the copy from my hands, and began to read some of the notes in pencil, such as: “Therefore, we can conclude that domestic instincts were acquired and natural instincts were partially lost by habit, and partially due to the selection and accumulation of man over successive generations, peculiar mental habits and actions, which arose for the first time from something that in our ignorance we call an accident. ” and "How are demons made?"
    Clairmont excused himself and took the book from the scholar's hands, his hard face, which he softened a few seconds later; the way his mood changed from moment to moment was alarming. - Your curiosity is interesting, indeed. - He evaluated, jocular. - I would like to take you to my laboratory, our most recent work is linked to the origin of the creatures. Since the book caught the attention of both of you, you will like it.
    

\- Hi, Matthew. He's been helping me while you're gone. - A somewhat acid voice appeared, and the owner of the voice had no better expression, and was accompanied by a young man with black hair, somewhat more friendly and quite pale.  
\- Diana, you must know Miriam, she is our manager.  
\- I'm Marcus Whitmore, a different kind of doctor. - We intended to shake that Miriam's hand, however, it was the boy who greeted us.  
\- What do you want here?  
\- I wanted to show them that our work proves, without a doubt, that the creatures are dying out. - The penetrating look of the centenary alternated between me, Diana and the two colleagues.  
Then, to illustrate what he had said, he showed us a graph on the computer, which showed the mitochondrial DNA of a witch named Benvenguda. She lived in 7th century Brittany and was very powerful; a wonder in a period that produced many wonders. Then he presented another chart, belonging to Beatrice Good, Benvenguda's last descendant. Good's DNA shows far less common indicators among the species, signaling that his ancestors, over the centuries, trusted far less in witchcraft to survive. This was the behavior that Diana Bishop had been exhibiting and she was still proud of it; and because of such attitudes, witches lose their powers, or hide them in such a way that they are destroyed by them.

Outside the lab, we discussed about the lost manuscript, the imminence of this said extinction of creatures and how the notion of time between demons, vampires and witches was different. One day, only one species will exist, and in the beginning, humans will not notice the difference; little by little you will see how magic has been purged from this world, and everything will be just the same, monotonous. They will continue with their little lives and nothing else will make sense.  
\- Magic is desire made real ... - That phrase simply slipped from my lips, before I tried to restrain it - Diana, you should at least try to use your powers without being so afraid ...  
The witch stopped walking and I felt her gaze on me - What did you say?  
\- You should try to use your powers ...  
\- Not that. About magic being desire made real. My aunt always says that.  
\- Um, you know when something comes to mind, and you need to talk? Well then... Di, we will help you, okay?  
She nodded slowly, and her arms went around me. My lips parted in a warm smile, while my eyes closed. After we left, Clairmont fixed his eyes on hers, and without haste, or ceremony, took her hand affectionately and planted a small kiss there. Various emotions and feelings emanated from that simple gesture; something very strong and venerable was born there, I was sure of it.

On the following morning, the historian had just awakened from execrable dreams that have been disturbing her since she opened the palimpsest - parchment or papyrus whose primitive text was scraped to make way for another. On the way to Bodleiana, behold, Gillian Chamberlain appears in her field of vision, wanting to speak to her, and by an irony of fate, Miss Kingsolver, also made her presence noticed, taking her place in front of Dr. Bishop, as if it was a shield against the creatures of Knox's ilk. Before Chamberlain, or Kingsolver could say anything, the researcher spoke up:  
\- You told Knox about the book. - She could see it in other people's eyes, she could read the thoughts of her fellow witch.  
\- I told Sylvia, she asked me. You know we shouldn't lie to other witches, bad things happen when you do that. Remember what happened to your parents...  
\- Stop it, Gillian. Stop using the species as a justification for your lack of character.

The historian left her colleague in the dark, and I couldn't be happier and more proud of my friend's attitude. As we left her view and approached the Bod, the familiar face we see is that of Mr Clairmont, and he had a determined but gentle look in his eyes. - Ah, there you are. I would like to invite you for a walk.  
We looked at each other, a smile breaking on the lips of the three friends - friends? Maybe. I still wasn't sure what we were - as the vampire turned around, directing us back to the University.  
\- Where are we going, anyway? - I asked, trying to suppress any hint of arrogance.  
\- You will see. - Any good-humored note had been erased from his tone of voice, as the sunlight dissipates, giving way to heavy black clouds of rain - Rest assured, I will not kidnap them.  
A noise escaped my lips, and Diana chuckled. We turn the corner and head towards Radcliffe's Chamber. We passed the entrance to Hertford College without stopping and the historian took him by the arm. Ahead there was an University of Oxford, notorious for its meticulous selection of its members and its strict attention to protocol.

We entered through a low wooden door that kept the audience away from the stillness of his apartment. There was no one at the lobby but the doorman, and there were no students sitting on the benches in the block ahead. The place was peaceful and quiet, as if inhabited only by the “souls of all honorable and deceased people at Oxford University”.  
\- Welcome to All Souls.  
All Souls College was a masterpiece of ancient Gothic architecture, mixed with a pastry cake and a cathedral with all the towers and delicate sculptures to which it was entitled.  
The vampire took the witch by the hand and our eyes met as if we were mischievous children in search of treasure. After passing an unusual cellar, we went up to his apartment, located at the top of one of the oldest blocks in the college.  
In those rooms, what was lacking in size was left over in furniture. A dingy Aubusson rug stretched across the floor, supporting a collection of authentic William Morris furniture. Somehow, the architecture of the 15th century next to the carpet of the 18th century and the rustic oak wood of the 19th century fit perfectly, creating the atmosphere of a select Edwardian space exclusively for gentlemen.  
On the right-hand wall of the main room, only one painting served as a substitute for a person evidently esteemed by Clairmont.  
\- Who is she? - I asked, without ceremony, although that image had a negative effect on me.  
\- It's my sister, Louisa.  
Matthew replied, equally unceremoniously, and went on with Miss Bishop to other parts of the house, talking about the country where he was born, his age, the name he started to use shortly after his transformation, a name that belonged to his adoptive parents, and it was the last thing i heard before the darkness took over me.

I showed Dr. Bishop the last room in my room, the one I used the most: The relatively large office, which featured a table with newspapers, books and academic material, such as articles, memos, letter requests and opinions and a lamp at each end. I poured an 1811 wine for the witch, and I poured some into a glass for myself. I was watching the scholar studying one of the alchemy books I inherited from my older brother, and an idea occurred to me about the connection between the witch and the cursed manuscript Ashmole. Soon, that sudden flash had given way to something much more unsettling: I could smell Joanne - Rosemary, red roses, frangipani - mixed with the inhospitable and familiar aroma of tobacco, cedar and olive blossom - essences that in themselves would bring no harm, if they did not belong to an odious being.


End file.
